Good morning, world. I have the greatest cup of coffee ever in my possession. And I woke feeling monstrously generous, so here is how it's done:
One large European stove -top espresso maker and a lot of cafe espresso. Illy's is good (duh) but if you're poor Cafe Nero Medaglia D'oro is the bomb diggedy too. Make according to directions. When it makes a sound like it's pissed off, it's done, don't burn it. Heat some water on the stovetop while you're waiting.
Now most people will tell you to add a shot of espresso to 8oz. of warm water. What you must do instead is fill an excellent coffee cup (that is very important) at least half way with the black stuff, then top it off with some water. A little bit of sugar, that means less than a heaping spoonful, and whole milk enough to change the color by a degree or two. You will want to kiss me every day for bringing such daily joy into your life. I myself would like to thank Italy, and Mary Anne for being able to stomach only tiny amounts of espresso so leaving the rest for me.
Well, that was a whole lot of talking about coffee.
Soon I'll start traveling, and I've been preparing for this by systematically never leaving my apartment unless I need food or training. This time next week I'll be packing to fly up to Seattle to see my mind numbingly hot man, and to attend a lecture, then fly back for 24 hours to present my aerial solo (cue terror now) in the Sunday Works in Progress show (oh look at that, more terror) then leaving the next evening for my month + immersion in Places I Used to Live.
Now that I think about it I don't know anyone who has left their lives for at least a month to go to where home used to be. I know why, too- it's fucking stressful. Mostly because I want to return victorious, but when your definition of victory falls somewhere along the lines of crazy to your parents...well...so much for that.
Speaking of which, I did audition for Le Reve on Sunday, whoo-hoo. I didn't survive the first cut as I am not strong enough at this time. But I did amaze myself by climbing a rope with no feet. They could have told me I was too fat and ugly to be in their show after that, and I still would have gone home satisfied.
Ok that's probably not true, but I was pretty happy with that anyways.
Things I will not miss about San Francisco part 45:
Fucktards getting out of the bars at 2:30 and waking me up by screaming repeatedly, for no conceivable reason, in the middle of the residential street. Seriously just standing out there screaming. Wtf?!